


Directions

by Indieblue



Series: Poison and Cherry Blossoms [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Little Fun, F/F, Pansy is annoyed but not really, Swearing, just a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indieblue/pseuds/Indieblue
Summary: “You give shite directions, Lovegood.” Pansy huffs, she carefully adjusts some of the shorter hairs that are tickling her forehead so that they sweep to the side. Pansy purses her lips, the corners turning up in a half-hearted sneer, “and it’s Parkinson to you.”Luna provides Pansy with a detailed map of where they are supposed to meet. Pansy wants to contest the accuracy of said map.





	Directions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!!
> 
> Originally this was meant to be a short story, but I decided instead to make it a series of random, probably unconnected one shots all about Luna and Pansy.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my random ramblings!
> 
> My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

   Sky high, pink suede stilettos clip across the stone pavement furiously, the owner moving with an unrelenting pace leaving a trail of thick smoke behind them as they take drag after drag from their fag.

   It is a doom and gloom kind of day, the sky an unchanging and even shade of grey. The wind is soft and gentle, almost a caress through her cropped, ear length raven locks.

   Her sharp, deep chocolate eyes scan her surroundings with a feral, almost animalistic gaze, as to not be caught off guard by _anything_.

   Short nails that are coated in a pastel pink polish, a black flare miniskirt that shows off her entire arse if she bends down, and a sheer, black and long-sleeved button down shirt that is tucked into the waistband of the skirt. She is dressed with purpose today: she always looks well put together, but she wishes to guarantee that she has the full attention of a particular witch.

   She glances around herself once more before risking looking in her small black clutch, she doesn’t know this ruddy area. It’s not like she can even go up to one of the muggles and ask them where she wants to go, since it’s hidden from them.

   Finally her fingers grab a hold of the slightly crumpled bit of parchment, and she withdraws it, a neat snap reaching her ears when her clutch shuts; she shoves her clutch under her arm whilst she tries to read the fanciful looped handwriting.

   She pauses in her tracks as she tries to decipher the various little scribbles which were meant to be directions. The basic map with vague, arbitrary lines thrown together makes  _no_ sense. "Which ruddy way is up?" Pansy asks under her breath, striding forth with the confidence of a person who knows where she is going.

    _At this rate I'll end up walking into a lake or something as equally ridiculous,_ Pansy thinks, squinting at the lines.

   “Fucking hate her,” Pansy growls under her breath, bawling up the useless bit of parchment in her fist. When she looks up however, she sees none other than Luna Lovegood—the exact person she is supposed to be meeting, skipping merrily in her direction.

   Pansy scowls when the fair haired witch stops a few inches away from her. Pansy is not impressed with the petite witch at the moment, first she gives her rubbish directions and now she’s invading her personal space.

   “Oh, Pansy. Fancy meeting you here,” Luna says airily.

   It is all Pansy can do not to grind her teeth in frustration. This is clearly going to be a very long day. Pansy takes a long drag from her fag, turning her head to blow smoke out to the side; she briefly considered exhaling into Luna's face, and decided that that was improper. Pansy Parkinson is many things, improper is not one of them.

   “You give shite directions, Lovegood.” Pansy huffs, she carefully adjusts some of the shorter hairs that are tickling her forehead so that they sweep to the side. Pansy purses her lips, the corners turning up in a half-hearted sneer, “and it’s Parkinson to you.”

   “You’re here though, aren’t you?” Luna hums happily.

   It’s going to be a very, _very_ long day.


End file.
